


Misplaced

by ahhthehorror



Category: Cable (Comics), Cable and Deadpool, X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Necrophilia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 06:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16402694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahhthehorror/pseuds/ahhthehorror
Summary: Short horror drabble/partial scene. I'm not going to work this into a longer piece, I just wanted to write this snippet. See tags for trigger warnings (or don't, if you don't want spoilers).





	Misplaced

[ X-Force infiltrates one of Stryfe’s strongholds during a time travel mission. The team splits up to cover more ground; Cable and Deadpool come across a dimly-lit room. ]

 

Cable held his breath as he noticed the figure in the corner of the room; watching them with an unnatural silence. He stared, frozen, prompting Wade to turn slowly and look. The figure didn’t move from it’s shadow-casted corner, or even stir, but it was the unmistakable shape of a human.

Perhaps it was merely a corpse, someone Stryfe had toyed with and left there; but it lacked the smell of rot, and the way it sat was most peculiar. It looked comfortable, the entire room did; plush drapes over a four-poster bed, luxury too grandiose to be wasted on one of his torture chambers. 

“Oh! I know what it is! Heh. It’s one of those dolls -- those life-like sex dolls? Kinda not surprised Stryfe would have one, he’s more than creepy enough.”

But Nathan had not averted his gaze; there was something about the figure that disturbed him. 

“Turn on the light,” he whispered. He needed to know.

Wade complied to his request, his cheery realisation dissolving into unease once more; he approached the lamp next to the thing and switched it on. 

Warm light illuminated the dim room, washing the thing with a sudden clarity. Her long scarlet hair, dull and lifeless; her white robes, fastened with a belt adorned with traditional Askani burial beading; and her darkened, leathery skin, taught and distorted across the face, rendering her almost unrecognisable. There was stitching in her flesh in odd placements, mismatched colours -- wear and tear through the years, where Stryfe had repaired the makeshift taxidermy. A delicate pair of finely made glass eyes stared out into blank nothingness, their vibrant shade of green and uncanny valley quality feeling misplaced on such a loathsome imitation of beauty. 

“No, no….” Nathan’s eyes betrayed him as tears welled up and his throat tightened, the reality of what sat before him dawning.

“Nate…?”

“Does she have a pendant?”

Wade could see one under the fabric of her dress, between the folds of her breast. Her fished it out, gingerly, avoiding touching the corpse as much as he could. 

“It’s a locket. Looks… old.”

A tear ran down the soldier’s face. “Open it.”

Within the locket lay a photograph -- a young Nathan Dayspring smiling, his arms around a scarlet-haired woman. An infant rested sleeping in her arms. 

Wade didn’t need to speak of what he saw; his frown gave it away like an open book. They both knew the identity of the corpse, without a shadow of doubt.

It was Aliya Dayspring; Nathan’s long deceased wife. Or rather, the stolen and desecrated corpse of her, still wearing the shrouds she was buried in. 

The sobbing that escaped Nathan now was alien; Wade had never seen him openly weep in such a manner before now. There was a half-horrified disbelief in his eyes, his breath shook rapidly as he hyperventilated, nails scraped against his scalp as he pulled at his hair in desperation. A flood of overwhelming anguish rolled over him, consuming him.

The memory of her dying breath played like an endless loop; the promise to keep Tyler safe, a promise he’d failed to honour, like everything he had failed her, both as a husband and as the Askani’son. The light leaving her eyes, the weight of her body as her soul left it. The way her eyes wouldn’t close, the lids refused to budge; staring out at nothing as they began to cloud over. 

“Nate --” Wade dropped the locket and closed the gap between them, catching him as he crumbled to the floor. He removed his mask and held Nathan’s face in his hands, pulling his eyes away from the corpse of his beloved. “Don’t look at her -- Nate, look at me. Look at me. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I…”

“He killed her -- he killed her!” the sobbing came at full force now. 

Wade didn’t know what to say, or do -- but to hold him close, tight, as Nathan wept into his shoulder. He steeled himself, rocking them slowly, stroking the older man’s hair; soothing, comforting him. It was all he could do until the storm passed. 

Over his shoulder, Wade saw something else they hadn’t noticed in the gloom. The headboard of the bed wasn’t just decorative; it was a series of beams covered in o-rings, bolts, and chains. On the far side of the room was a row of hooks housing an array of floggers and unidentifiable devices. 

Perhaps this was a torture chamber, after all.


End file.
